Page 41 of Jarran

And he had responded.

Jarran glanced at Evie. Still sleeping. She hadn’t noticed the blink of light on the panel, and he didn’t wake her. This was between him and his brother, for now.

He entered the coordinates for the way station and sent them off.

EIGHTEEN

The Grum-Rou way station looked like one of the “dive bars” Evie had seen in historical photos. Everything in it was at least four decades out of date, and some things looked much older than that. It smelled like engine coolant and centuries of body odor from dozens of species.

Evie followed Jarran through the shuttle bay and into the main corridor, staring everywhere, like a tourist. Grime had filled in every seam of the floor panels. Lights flickered overhead and two were fully dead. There was a dubious stain on the wall near the entrance that she chose not to examine closely.

A handful of stalls lined both sides of the corridor, crammed together, staffed by aliens of species she’d never encountered before. They sold things that looked like garbage. Actual garbage, in some cases. Scrap metal. Used components with visible corrosion. Containers of liquid in colors that didn’t occur in nature on Earth and probably shouldn’t occur anywhere. One vendor appeared to be selling live insects from a tank, though whether as pets or snacks, Evie couldn’t tell and didn’t want to ask.

Still, it was fascinating. They were in the deep-space equivalent of a truck stop. Evie had been to a truck stop once, outside Tucson, at two in the morning, but it was cleaner and better lit.

Jarran moved through it without hesitation. His height and bulk cleared a path, and his dark expression did not invite questions. Evie felt conspicuously human and profoundly out of her element.

The lodging counter was a window cut into a metal wall, staffed by an alien with mottled gray skin and four arms, two of which were occupied with eating something from a pouch. The alien barely looked up when they approached.

Jarran asked for a room in Universal.

“Bed or tank?” the alien responded, still barely looking up.

“Bed.”

The alien grunted, peered at the two of them as if calculating size, then began tapping something into a screen.

“What’s with the tank?” Evie whispered as they waited for the alien.

Jarran shrugged. “There must be species in this region who rest submerged in a liquid.”

Evie mouthed the word wow, and the alien grunted out what sounded like a number. There was a brief and confusing discussion about payment, then they were handed two thin metal cards through the window.

“Room code and meal vouchers,” the alien said, and that was it. No identification requested. No questions about why a massive Virilian male and a human female needed a room on a way station in the middle of nowhere. The alien went back to the food pouch.

“How are we paying for this?” she whispered, worrying about what happened to people who didn’t pay their bills in places like this.

“It’s common at stations like this for payment to be made after a trade deal happens, so I told him I’d pay after we conducted our ‘business.’ Don’t worry,” he said as her brow creased. “Sifter ships are stocked with weapons and other equipment, even small ones like the one we took. We’ll find something in in to settle up with. We won’t be here long enough to rack up large fees.” His brow furrowed. “I got us one room. We need to stay together at all times.”

“Oh. Okay.” She couldn’t argue with that last point, even if the payment details sounded sketchy.

“Good.” He cocked his head. “Are you hungry?”

“Stars, yes,” Evie said on a sigh, and followed Jarran toward the galley deck.

The food was served through a slot in a grease-stained wall. There wasn’t a menu, except to specify what kind of digestive system one had. Evie took her tray of gray and brown lumps and sat down opposite Jarran in the cafeteria-style eating area. She took a bite and decided it was better than nothing. The lukewarm bites tasted like salt and starch, with no other discernible flavor. Evie ate every morsel. She would have eaten more if the voucher allowed a second helping.

Jarran finished his tray faster than she did, which was impressive given the flavor situation. He set his utensil down and leaned back. “I’ve had worse.”

“Where?” she asked. “In a dumpster?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “On the Korath-7. The Baylans occasionally served a protein cube that tasted like compressed chalk.”

“I remember those cubes.” She grimaced. “You’re right. This is an upgrade.”

He looked at her across the narrow table. The galley was loud and grimy and crowded with aliens she couldn’t identify, and the overhead light turned everything a sickly yellow. All the while, Jarran watched her with a different kind of hunger that had nothing to do with the size or quality of their meals.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she said. “I’m covered in bath salt residue and I haven’t brushed my teeth in two days.”